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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24105985">Birdsong</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/preening/pseuds/preening'>preening</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, Oral Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Post-Canon, Public Display of Affection</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 00:28:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,807</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24105985</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/preening/pseuds/preening</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorothea struggles with navigating a relationship where she has everything she needs- and more. It turns out that loving and being loved is a trial in itself.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ferdinand von Aegir/Dorothea Arnault</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>78</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Birdsong</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>This is what Dorothea expects.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clumsy hands at her waist, pulling her into the whiskey stained lap of a noble whose name she’s purposely forgotten. Hot breath ghosting her neck while he promises lavish fur coats and jewelry from as far as Fodlan’s Throat. Eyes that show open, unashamed lust and nothing else. Would he remember her name still- if she winced at the possessive hand that squeezes her thigh? Tomorrow, those very same eyes averting her gaze, like their paths had never crossed at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What Dorothea </span>
  <em>
    <span>doesn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> expect is Ferdinand’s ring on her finger, so gaudy it’s almost endearing, if only because it matches her husband’s fervent love for her. Love for </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span>. As she absentmindedly brushes the hair out of her face, the weight of it surprises her every time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tentative slide of Ferdinand’s arm around her waist, gentle and unassuming, this surprises her too. They’d been wed for six moons now, and he seemed to relish at introducing her as his wife. Duchess Aegir, they call her, and it takes her several occasions to get used to the name. She’s noticed, too- the difference between the way he says it, and the way </span>
  <em>
    <span>they</span>
  </em>
  <span> say it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What she hasn’t yet gotten used to is the way Ferdinand openly dotes on her, hands holding hers, lips brushing against her ear, brief pecks while in the midst of conversation. A part of her recoils at his touch. He says nothing of it, and respects her space- he’s always taken being rebuffed in stride. The little girl in her wonders when his patience will finally run thin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ferdinand has asked her about it before, though he’d only assumed she was averse to public displays of affection. He’d apologized even, and the pit of her stomach felt tight as guilt settled there. He’d forgotten his propriety in the weeks following their marriage, and she’d let him believe it was an issue as simple as being shy about physical affection.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Deep down, Dorothea knows she has mountains of baggage to process, and even as they near their first full year of marriage, she can hardly bring herself to bring it up. Everything is so easy with Ferdinand, from the way that he brushes his fingers over her knuckles, from how he knows her taste in gifts and always brings home something so thoughtful she could cry. Of course, loving and being loved would be hard- but she’s sure that she’s the problem, not him. She doesn’t want him to realize that, not yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So she smiles, lips pressed to a thin line, her chin held up high as they go through the song of dance of meeting the dozens of nobles at the banquet. It’s a performance like any other, except she has Ferdinand by her side, and somehow that fails to ease her anxiety. She notices the looks of derision, the way they barely hide their pity for him, for falling into the trap of marrying for lust. Because that’s all it had to be about in their eyes, especially since catching wind of her lack of anything to her name. All these nights end with a bruised sense of self, and the pressing worry that her husband will wonder why he’s here at all.</span>
</p><p>____________________________________________________________________________________</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once Ferdinand and Dorothea retire to their own quarters, she breathes a sigh of relief to be away from the scrutiny. She peels away her layers of clothing and as each layer comes off, she feels all the more bare. Her husband was always forthcoming with her, and yet the aversion to vulnerability she has in any capacity all but forces her to push him away with both hands. He notices, she knows that he does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Some wine to wind down tonight?” Ferdinand muses aloud, dressing himself down from across the room. He meticulously folds his clothes, neatly placing it on the oak table alongside her ornate jewelry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dorothea sinks down on the couch beside the fireplace, already lit prior to them settling in. While she couldn’t get used to the constant derision in the court, she grows more and more comfortable with being taken care of like this. Sitting by a fireplace would always be preferable to barely sleeping in a cot, hyper aware of the dagger within reach. There was no such danger here, but she still feels afraid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sit with me.” she calls over, voice sounding small without intending it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s stripped down to trousers and breeches, with a loose shirt showing off his ample chest. When he sits, she can feel herself at once pulling away but wanting to be closer. He closes the distance between them without thinking twice about it, brow furrowed as he seems to falter in embracing her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The fire is nice, isn’t it?” He uselessly pulls his shirt closed, but it billows open again. Seeing him self conscious is as endearing as it is heartbreaking. Before she can move herself closer to him, he starts before she can get a word in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do not mean to press you, lovely Dorothea. I only wish to understand, if you wish to speak of it.” Ferdinand soothes, though she notices the way he stops himself from reaching over to squeeze her hand, as if diminished by her recoiling from him enough times. She feels wracked with guilt, and moves to sit closer to him, her legs brushing his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t mind talking about it, Ferdie.” Without thinking twice of it, she reaches over to loop her arm around his, and leans on his broad shoulder. It doesn’t escape her notice that he relaxes as she touches him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I only wish I knew what I was feeling, so I could tell you. It’s… a lot of things.” Absentmindedly, she reaches into his shirt and trails her fingers up and down his broad chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you cannot help it, you cannot help it.” Ferdinand assures relaxing into her touch. There’s no hint of bitterness in the statement as it’s spoken like a plain truth. Her heart swells with affection for his sincerity. She can’t believe how much she hated it before, having someone see right through her. It makes things easier now, though it felt like the exact opposite before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“While you may not be able to articulate how you feel, might I give voice to what I feel?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dorothea deflates, just a bit, and tries to hide the sting in her eyes when she looks up at him. “You know you don’t ever have to ask permission to tell me how you feel, right? I don’t want that for us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, darling.” Ferdinand coos, hands combing through her tresses. “I know.” He presses a gentle kiss to her forehead that feels like it could briefly clear the fog in her mind. “I ask because I have no wish to assume my feelings are more important than yours, simply because I have a pulse on them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At this she bristles, and she knows it’s her being sensitive. Like he said, she can’t help it. She pulls away from him slowly, sitting up straight to face him on the couch. “Your feelings are important. I’ve done something wrong if you think you can’t tell me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know </span>
  </em>
  <span>that I can tell you, Dorothea.” He sits a little straighter too, but doesn’t wither like she does. His words are resolute, but not cold. “I only worry- occasionally. My feeling is that your discomfort for my physical affection comes from a place of shame.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think I’m ashamed of </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” She blurts out plainly, covering her mouth to hide her poorly timed mirth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I- Well. Unless we’re alone, you go nearly stiff the moment I draw near. I’m not sure what else I can assume?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She swallows, comprehending his words. The truth is so plain before her she feels like a fool for not realizing sooner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Touch me now.” She orders, eyes narrowed to emerald slits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Now</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” She orders, her voice growing husky as she reaches over to put his large hand to her clothed breast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He catches on quickly, like the good husband she knows he is. She gives a little gasp as he kneads her breast for the briefest moment while he tweaks her nipple through the thin fabric of her robe. She leans forward to mouth sweet nothings into his neck, and pulls his head to her breasts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You like this?” Ferdinand asks, words muffled as he breathes into her chest. She mewls in response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You like how my hands feel against your skin.” He asserts, spurned on her praise. Emboldened, he pulls open her robe and lets her full breasts free, and his mouth descends on her soft nipples without shame.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love that.” She sighs breathlessly, fingers combing through his hair the way she knows he likes. “Ferdinand. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sucks so roughly, using the barest hint of teeth. Unconsciously, she arches her back and pushes her breast into his mouth, as if the action could make him any more passionate than he already is. She pulls apart the lower half of her robe, and dips a finger between her glistening folds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He must notice, she assumes, because he sucks harder before coming off her breast with a loud pop. He gives her reddened nipple a brief kiss before he smiles, boyish and proud, and leans over to suck her wet fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What does my flower taste like?” She asks, face growing flushed as he sucks on her fingers. Ferdinand only moans around her fingers in response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t answer properly, Ferdinand.” Her voice lowers, and the slight glaze in his eyes as he releases her fingers and wipes off his mouth makes her stomach do flips. “What do I taste like?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There are no words, my lady.” He stumbles, licking his lips. “I only…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He trails off as he watches her part her legs on the couch, her flower completely exposed for him to see. Without thinking, his tongue immediately probes between her lips, licking long lines around her swollen clit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She relaxes, leaning back into the couch, thighs quivering and her legs spreading apart instinctively. He really was the best at this. She rewards him by not quieting herself, and his fingers rake slowly across his scalp. As if mirroring her, he licks slowly from her entrance to the tip of her hood, earning him a shiver and a tight grip of his hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dorothea,” he moans, pulling back just enough to speak her name so reverently, his hot breath teasing her in a way he </span>
  <em>
    <span>must</span>
  </em>
  <span> know feels divine. And it does. Oh, it does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She bucks her hips up, mashing her swollen flower bud against his lips. Taking the hint, he sucks each of her lips softly. He manages while nosing her mound, dragging the tip of his nose between her folds. By now, her stomach hops and she has half a mind to drag him to their marriage bed so that she can ride his face in earnest. As if sensing her impatience, he smiles warmly up at her- an almost silly sight as his face is slick with her arousal, and his lips are swollen from his ministrations. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you. I made a promise and I intend to keep it, my love. With my dying breath I will remind you of the very same vows I made.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Only Ferdinand could pull off such a sincere declaration of love with his face in such close proximity to her sex. She laughs, softly, and cradles his wet cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know I love you just as much.” She assures. “Show me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her hips roll, and Ferdinand responds with a wanton moan against her entrance. He briefly lets her tongue enter her, laving it around, before moving up to finally to her clit. The way it sticks out, swollen and nearly blush pink, he’s easily able to wrap his lips around it and give it a hard suck. She immediately bucks up against him, and he has to place his hands on her thighs to keep her from thrusting too roughly up against the bridge of his nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There you go…” She trails off, eyes half lidded while she grinds up against his face, struggling against his firm hands pressing on her trembling thighs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A finger is inserted, crooked just slightly, applying just the slightest bit of pressure against her plush walls. At this point, she leans all the way back on her elbows, and simply enjoys the sight of Ferdinand sucking her clit just as enthusiastically as he does her nipples. He moans, she knows, because the hum makes her entire body alight as she mashes her pussy firmly against his face through her orgasm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not once does he relent, because he sucks her through the flash of pleasure, and then suckles at lips and clit gently in the afterglow. She can feel herself pulsing, legs shaking as she tries to bring him closer and move him away all at once. Soft sucks eventually turn into kitten licks, as though he wanted to drink up every drop of her arousal. He sighs her name against her sex, pressing feather light kisses against the slight bruising on her thighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My Dorothea…” he moans, and she has to nearly pull him up by a fistful of hair to get his face from between her legs. In the back of her mind, she feels entirely grateful to have a husband who gets off on indulging her the way he does. The wet spot at the front of Ferdinand’s trousers doesn’t escape her notice, and she weakly palms the prominent bulge, giving him silent permission.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This she loves, just as much as she loves having him pliant and pulsing between her fingers. He quickly undresses, trousers and breeches coming off with urgency. He positions himself between her legs, sinking between her folds with his mouth hanging open. Boneless and sensitive from her recent orgasm, she can only open her legs to him, allowing him to sink to the hilt. There’s a deep throb that connects them both, and she beckons him closer by brushing her hands against the side of his waist. Like a trained dog, he leans forward, allowing his plush chest to bump against hers and he moves against her. Her hands move to hold him by the back of the neck, gently coaxing him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go ahead, you can spill inside me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At that, he groans, his pistoning hips slowing to deeper, slow grinding as he pushes into her as deeply as he is able. She shivers as she feels him throb, and relishes how he doesn’t immediately pull out. With all her strength, she tangles her legs behind him and nuzzles the crook of his neck.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stay here. Lay on top of me for a bit, will you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gasps, relaxing just so. “Are you certain I’m not too heavy?” But he doesn’t move to get up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not at all. I like the way you feel.” Gently, she runs her nails across his back, relishing in the way he shivers and relaxes enough to allow his full body weight on her. He pins her down, and somehow, she feels safe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stay like that, dirty and intertwined, simply listening to the sound of each other’s slowing heartbeats. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like the way you feel. I always have, even back then. At the academy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughs at that, chuckling softly before he exhales.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I like your arms around me, and your hands on my shoulders. I like the way you press your lips to mine, and how you don’t care who sees.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want the world to know that I adore my wife.” He murmurs, and she can tell he’s giving her his full attention despite being nestled against her hair and struggling to stay awake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, I only get scared- No, it’s not like that,” She starts, and she pauses to put a finger to her feelings. “I’m still surprised. Every day, actually. You chose </span>
  <em>
    <span>me </span>
  </em>
  <span>as your wife. And every day I get to call you my husband and know that you mean every kind thing you’ve ever said to me. I didn’t dare hope for that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re so beautiful…” He trails, stifling a yawn. “I know this to be true.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And it’s true that I love you, Ferdinand. Deeply.” She kisses the crown of his head, and her heart flutters just slightly when she imagines kissing the head of their future children. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I you.” He yawns, barely able to form a sentence. They’re both filthy now, but she finds herself lulling to sleep too, his breathing easing her into a peaceful sleep as he murmurs her name against her naked breast in his sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This</span>
  </em>
  <span> is what Dorothea has come to expect of Ferdinand. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Had to finally write something for these two, I love them I love thinking about them.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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